I was on my way to collect my fashion week invites from the office, when I found out Heath Ledger died in the most tragic way ever at 421 Broome st. in New York (pictured above).
As you all know, this isn't a typical story I follow. I watch the markets all day, think about going to sample sales or think of ways to make Macy's a better store. But this evening, I saw the crowds outside of the building where his body was being carried out on a stretcher. I read what other reporters saw outside of his Brooklyn home, I called all of my friends that knew him and listen to their stories. I went down to an old hang out of his (The Spotted Pig) to see what little bit of information I could find out about this man I knew nothing about.
It's now 2:12 am. I am exhausted. But with every story I asked to report out, I learned something really important today. As much as we kill ourselves for achievement, recognition or a certain level of success, all of those things don't really matter in the end. If they stop making us happy, then they just. don't. matter. My thoughts are sincerely with his friends and family this evening/early morning. For real.
